


I'm Choosing My Confessions

by phoestiel



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Angst, F/M, Mutually Unrequited, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-14 00:53:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7145456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoestiel/pseuds/phoestiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The squad is celebrating a win, but Elliot doesn't like Brian paying too much attention to Olivia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Choosing My Confessions

It was a hard-won victory; most of them are. They’re celebrating this one, because the next win might be weeks or months away: it’s the nature of the job. Cassidy is on one side of her, Elliot on the other. Munch and Jeffries are gone already, but Liv is feeling good. Not fuzzy, not out of control, just good. Warm. She laughs at one of Cassidy’s dumb joke and he grins back, sort of teasing and sort of knowing. His eyes linger on her, like her own grin lingers at the corners of her mouth, but she doesn’t acknowledge it. Just lifts her glass to her lips and takes a drink, the beer cold at the back of her throat.

“Don’t try to get cute, Cassidy. Shoot for the attainable,” she says, glancing at him. Not quite flirting, but not opposed to it. Cassidy starts to lean in, press his advantage. 

“Attainable? Bar’s pretty low for that, considering it’s _Cassidy_ ,” Elliot says. His tone is joking on the surface, but she can hear the dangerous, electric tone underneath. She turns away from Brian to see what’s going on with her partner, what he’s thinking. They’re on the same frequency; she can read him like a book. He’s looking at her, eyes burning, but he’s still smiling. She puts her glass on the bar, careful to get it on the coaster and not the bar.

“I do all right, Elliot.” Cassidy says, his voice loud and brash. She likes him. He’s kind of… she wouldn’t say dumb, exactly. That’s too harsh; besides, no one on Cragen’s team is stupid: you can’t be, not if you want to stay in the unit. No. Brian Cassidy is clueless about things, a little ham fisted, but he’s a good guy. Good police. It helps he’s got those gorgeous blue eyes and a rough charm she finds endearing. His voice sounds like whiskey and cigarettes, and his shoulders are broad. 

She likes him.

“Just alright?” Elliot replies, his eyes flickering to Cassidy. The corner of Liv’s mouth twitches, but not in amusement.

“‘S what I said. Is there an echo in here?”

“I don’t know,” Elliot comes back, pulling himself up and squaring his shoulders, “is there?”

“You’re a piece of work, Stabler, y’know that?” Cassidy also pulls himself up, and Liv sighs through her teeth.

“All right, guys,” she says, but neither are listening to her. 

“Am I? So what does that make you?” Elliot can be so bullheaded, overprotective for no reason. She can see Brian clenching his jaw, chin up, and the cocky half-smile on Elliot’s face.

“Better’n that,” Cassidy’s voice is getting brasher, louder. They’re going to call attention to themselves in a minute. She picks up her drink, throws the rest of it back, and slams the glass back down on the bar. Elliot’s ready to step around her stool and make something of it with Cassidy, but she turns her head to look at him. She wants to put a hand on his shoulder, talk softly until he calms down. She knows how to do it; it soothes them both. But Brian is here and she won’t take sides. There are no sides to take. There shouldn’t be.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” she says, getting up and throwing one of her looks at Brian. He meets her eyes and then drops his own, toying with his glass. “When you’re done comparing gun calibers? Re-holster your weapons.”

She takes her time in the bathroom, turning on the water just to hear it. She washes her hands for something to do, and then presses one, still wet, to the back of her neck. She should have left with Jeffries or Munch, but she’d been having a good time; a rare thing when she’s married to a job with odd hours and heinous crimes. She leans against the sink, closing her eyes, and then shuts the water off. When she opens them, she studies herself in the mirror. She sees the same face she always sees: dark eyes, striking cheekbones, angular jaw. Hair too short to be considered frivolous, too long to be considered _alternative_. A professional looking face, with something around the mouth and eyes capable of compassion. Strong features for the strong woman she has to be. She likes her face, but as always she tries to see more of her mother in it than her father.

She wonders what other people see when they look at her. Elliot looks often enough that he must like whatever he sees. She can tell what Brian sees: he’s so blatant. He doesn’t know how not to wear his heart on his sleeve. Doesn’t know how to cloud the issue or obscure it behind words like _loyalty_ and _friendship_.

She sighs. It’s time to go home.

Elliot is in the passage when she comes out, moving towards her. They can’t see the bar from here, and she’s sort of glad he left Brian alone. Sometimes he doesn’t know when to quit. That instinct of his, that fatherly or brotherly or friendly instinct to protect her, it irritates her sometimes. She won’t admit she wouldn’t know what to do without it: they are Benson and Stabler, Elliot and Olivia, and this is their status quo.

“You waiting for the little boys’ room?” she asks, the word choice deliberate. He’s still half-smiling, but it’s softer than when he was goading Brian.

“No,” he answers. She doesn’t ask him what he’s waiting for, if not the bathroom. Sometimes the questions you don’t ask matter as much as the ones you do. She looks up at him, as honestly as she can. As honestly as she ever does. He’s looking right back at her, and she can feel them aligning the way they do. He breathes out and she breathes in; he goes left and she goes right. That’s what it means to be partners. The silence between them spins out; not awkward and not quite innocent.

Finally she huffs a laugh, looking beyond his shoulder, and shakes her head.

“It’s late.” She tells him. He nods. His gaze on her is like weight, but not uncomfortable. Not more that she can handle.

“I know,” he says. When that’s all, she looks at him.

“Go home, El,” she murmurs. He nods but doesn’t move. She takes a breath, a pang going through her. “Give Kathy my love.” That gets him to break his stance, fall into step behind her as she moves towards the bar.

“I will.” He’s half a step behind her but she doesn’t turn to look. When they reach the bar, he pulls money out of his wallet. Cassidy watches, eyes flat.

“Good night, Liv,” Elliot says. After a pause that’s a beat too long-one day she’s going to kill him for that kind of stuff, drives her crazy- he adds, “you too, Cassidy.” 

“Night,” Brian says, still guarded. “Drive safe.” Elliot nods, curt, and then he’s gone. Olivia considers another drink, but she’s not as young as she used to be. Doesn’t have the capacity or the recklessness anymore.

“He’s all right,” Brian says. He kind of feels helpless with the two of them, like he’s caught between something he doesn’t quite understand. “Stabler’s good people. But that chip on his shoulder…” He shakes his head as though he isn’t carrying a matching one on his. She chuckles. “Gonna get him in trouble one day, all I’m sayin.”

“Well, not today, anyway.” She says. She pulls money out of her wallet, too. 

“Callin it a night?” He asks. She thinks of Stabler going home. He probably looks in on his kids when he gets there; not to check on them, but just to look. He misses out on so much, these quiet moments in the middle of the night are precious to him. At least at this hour they’re all still and safe and quiet. 

The corner of her mouth turns up and her eyes flash at Brian. He tries to hope that’s all for him, but he’s a good cop; he can read people and he knows things they think they’re hiding.

“Yeah,” she says. Her eyes flash again, her smile turning into something tantalizing, and he’s weak.

“Want me to walk you out?” His tone is a touch too bluff; they both know what he’s asking. It wouldn’t be the first time. She laughs, soft and warm and intimate.

“Why not?” He smiles back at her, paying his own tab as he gets up. They walk out together; he’s half a step behind her with his hand on her back because he knows he can. She catches a whiff of his cologne and tries not to compare it to Elliot’s.

End

**Author's Note:**

> This story inspired by late night Skype chatting my friend, and a Season 1 rewatch. Olivia and Elliot had chemistry from the beginning and it hurts me, so I give this pain to you. The title comes from R.E.M.'s song Losing My Religion.


End file.
